


Chilton's Pet

by Rafaelle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rafaelle/pseuds/Rafaelle





	Chilton's Pet

Frederick Chilton woke up on Sunday morning, made his way down to his huge kitchen, and put coffee on to percolate. He was just lamenting that there was no quicker way to get coffee, when he glanced out of the window.

He scanned the garden idly, noting that the trees were starting to drop leaves and make the place look a little untidy. As his eyes swept over the view, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye.

He looked much more closely at the corner of the garden where he had seen the movement. He could see nothing untoward, and he was just about to dismiss it as his imagination, when there was another slight movement.

There was definitely something alive in that corner of the garden. It was too small to be a person, but it was pretty big for an animal, from what he could make out between the shrubs.

He debated with himself for a few moments, wondering whether to go and check it out, or just leave it and hope it went away by itself.

He decided to have his coffee and then check again.

He took his coffee to the living room and drank it, flipping through a news site on his laptop.

When he took his mug back out to the kitchen, he looked out of the window again, hoping that whatever his visitor had been, it was now gone.

He was disappointed, however. He could see something moving a little in the corner there, and if he admitted it to himself, it was moving like it was hurt. There was just an indefinable quality to its movements that told him that it was injured in some way.

Sighing, he put his mug in the sink, then went to get a jacket.

While he was getting his coat, he saw his golf clubs. He selected a likely-looking iron to take with him, just in case it was something dangerous.

He reluctantly made his way out into the garden, silently praying that he wouldn’t have to put whatever it was out of its misery.

He slowly walked down the garden, trying to look non-threatening. He didn’t want to startle it and have it attack him.

As he walked around the shrubs that had obscured the creature, he stared in amazement. It was not anything that he had imagined. He had been prepared to see a stray dog, or a large cat, but this thing was like no animal he had ever seen before.

For one thing, it didn’t even have fur. It looked like it was made from some kind of pale green leather.

If anything, it looked like some kind of dinosaur. Like a cute, children’s cartoon of a dinosaur.

I had wings, so it was like a pterodactyl, but instead of a big pointy beak, it had a rounded little snout, with prominent nostrils.

He just stood, staring, as the creature stared back at him. Its expression was wary, and pained.

Frederick looked the creature over, and saw that its right wing had a long jagged tear in it. It was oozing some kind of blood.

He had literally no idea what to do. His brain was rebelling. He could see the creature plainly, but he knew that it couldn’t exist.

He was basically looking at a dragon. A cute little dragon at the bottom of his garden. It surely must be some kind of hallucination.

The two of them stood stock still and stared at each other for what seemed like a long, long time.

Eventually, Frederick shook himself slightly, then continued to edge towards the creature.

He felt that he was awake. He could feel the slight chill of the Autumnal air on his cheek, feel the weight of the golf club in his hand. Everything seemed much too detailed to be a dream.

He felt he had to proceed as though this was real, until it became apparent that it was not, and the one thing he knew was that he couldn’t leave the animal so obviously injured, without at least trying to help. He knew what it was to be torn apart, and he couldn’t leave it that way.

He edged closer and closer, trying to look non-threatening. Eventually, he was right in front of the creature, which still regarded him warily, but which made no attempt to escape him or to attack him.

He gingerly held out the back of his hand to the creature, as is recommended with strange dogs. The little creature sniffed him curiously.

Slowly, slowly, he crouched down, to be nearer its level. He put down his golf club and reached out to examine the damaged wing.

He was gentle and careful, as he experimentally stretched the wing, to get an impression of the extent of the injury. Not having any experience of wings, he wasn’t totally sure of his diagnosis, but it seemed that the muscles and bones were intact, and the only injury was the tear in its hide.

The creature stood still and stoic as he examined it. It seemed to have resigned itself to the fact that it needed his help, and was trusting him not to harm it.

His examination complete, he stood slowly up again. “Stay there,” he advised it, “I’ll come back.”

He walked off, back to the house, feeling unsettled and foolish. How bizarre that he was now talking to this impossible animal as though it could understand every word he said.

He walked through to his box room, and dug around until he found his old med-school supplies. He was glad that he had remembered correctly, and that there was a spool of suturing thread and a couple of needles amongst the forgotten remnants, still in their sterile packaging.

He grabbed them, then found his first aid kit in the kitchen, and grabbed an old coat from the closet.

He made his way back down the garden, to where the creature was waiting for him, almost as if it had understood him when he spoke to it.

His movements as slow and non-threatening as he could make them, he laid the coat on the ground beside the creature, and sat cross-legged on it.

He spoke gently to the creature, describing each step of the procedure, as he disinfected and stitched its wound.

He was gentle and careful, and the little creature stayed completely still as he tended to its injury.

When he was done, he sat back a little to admire his handiwork. He had made a neat job of it, if he did say so himself. He knew the importance of minimising scars.

He put everything away in the first aid kit, then he gently reached out and stroked the little creature’s head. For a non-furry animal, it felt surprisingly pleasant - dry and smooth.

“You’re going to need to stay off that wing for a few days,” he said gently, even though he had no real expectation that the creature would understand.

He sat with the little animal, in a companionable silence, while he tried to decide what to do next. Should he try to feed it? Make a bed for it somewhere? Or just leave it to sort itself out, now he had done what he could to help it?

As he was still debating with himself, the little animal sidled a little closer to him, leaning gently against him.

He froze, unsure how to react. Was the creature showing gratitude? Or affection? Or did it just want to share his warmth?

Tentatively, and a little awkwardly, he placed his hand on its flat little head. With his long fingers, he massaged little circles on the soft, leathery skin.

He felt the hard little head press a little against his fingers, and he felt strangely pleased that he had managed to choose the right thing to soothe the poor hurt creature.

He stayed there for a few minutes, letting the animal get warm, then he very gently extricated himself from their huddle. He stood up, and gathered his things, as the creature watched him.

He decided to leave the creature where it was. Hopefully it would go back to wherever it had come from, now he had done what he could for it.

But as he walked back to the house, the creature followed him.

It followed him closely, and when he reached the door, it huddled against his legs. He looked down, and it looked up at him, with a wide-eyed expression that made it look even cuter than before.

He sighed and opened the door, and the little creature hopped up onto the step and walked into his kitchen.

He closed and locked the door behind them, then looked around. The creature was standing right by the radiator, facing it, as though basking in its warmth. He couldn’t suppress a smile to see how much happier it now seemed to be than when he had first found it.

It seemed to him that the next thing it would surely need was food. But what on Earth would a thing like that eat? Would it want bugs, like a lizard? He very much hoped not, unless it could find them for itself. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to buy bugs from a pet store for it - the thought made his skin crawl.

He opened the cupboards, and the fridge, to see exactly what food he had around the place.

The answer was, very little. There was a carton of milk in the fridge, and he poured some into a saucer, then offered it to the creature.

It sniffed the saucer thoroughly, but made no attempt to drink the milk. He would have to think again.

He took a slice of bread from a bag in the cupboard, and held that out to the creature, but again, it sniffed the offering, but seemed uninterested.

So that was dairy and grains out of the question. He guessed some kind of meat would be the obvious thing to try.

He dug through the cupboards. All he could find was a tin of paté. He remembered buying it from an exclusive deli, months ago. The reason he had never eaten it was because it had been so expensive.

But it was the only meat product he could find, and he was unlikely to eat it himself now, so he steeled himself to open the tin and turned out the paté onto a little dish.

He put the dish down on the floor beside the little creature. It sniffed for only a second before quickly gobbling down the paté.

He knew he should have been horrified by the speed with which $100 worth of paté had disappeared, but he was just glad he had found something to sustain his little patient.

He took the old coat that he had used to sit on outside, and folded it into a vague bed-shape. He laid it carefully by the radiator. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction when the creature stepped onto the coat and snuggled down into the soft lining.

He reached out and rubbed its head softly for a moment, then he stood up and tiptoed away, hoping that it might sleep now, and hopefully start to heal.

He put the paté dish in the sink, threw out the tin, then quietly walked out of the kitchen.

He went upstairs to change into proper clothes, then he came back to check in the kitchen.

The little creature seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so he quietly let himself out of the house.

He drove to a local market, where he bought ridiculous amounts of meat. He wasn’t sure how long the little creature would stay, or how much it would eat, but he wanted to be ready. He bought cat food, dog food, cans of corned beef, whatever he could think of.

He almost forgot to buy groceries for himself, but he dashed around at the last minute, picking up a few things.

He let himself back into the house a little apprehensively. He was relieved to see that the creature was still sleeping, and that the house was undisturbed.

He quietly fixed himself a sandwich, and took it into the living room.

He spent the rest of the day more or less as usual on a day off, but checking on his little houseguest from time to time.

Eventually, as he was reading through some reports in the late afternoon, he heard a tapping noise from the kitchen.

He got up to investigate, and found the little animal standing by the back door.

He unlocked and opened the door, and the creature hopped off the back step and wandered off into the shrubbery.

Frederick watched it disappear into the undergrowth.

Left alone, he wondered if the creature would be back, or if it would just leave now, to wherever it had come from.

He honestly couldn’t say whether he was hoping it would return or not. Obviously it would be less of a worry, and less work, if it just left. But in truth, he was at least partly enjoying taking care of it.

He had lived alone for so long, without even a pet to keep him company. It was nice to have another living thing in the house.

And he was not good at interacting with people. It was nice to have something that needed him. Feeding it, keeping it warm, taking care of its wound, was simple and uncomplicated. It was nice to feel like he was really helping. A feeling he rarely experienced, if he admitted it to himself.

He stood by the open door for a few minutes. Just as he was becoming chilled, and thinking of closing the door, the little creature walked out of the bushes and over to him. He was surprised just how his heart lifted as it hopped up onto the step and walked past him into the kitchen.

He closed and locked the door, then followed the little animal back into the house. To his surprise, it had not returned to its bed. It was standing directly in front of the cupboard where he had found the paté.

It looked up at him, then at the cupboard, then back at him.

He grinned at the transparent request. It could hardly have made itself clearer if it had spoken perfect English.

He rummaged through the cupboard where he had stored all the cans he had brought back from the market, eventually selecting a can of high-end cat food that was in a paté form.

He turned the food out onto a dish, and put it on the floor in front of his new pet. It was a pleasant relief when the paté disappeared just as quickly as the $100 version had.

He crouched down and rubbed the little creature’s flat, smooth head for a moment. “You done?” he asked.

In reply, it turned and walked back to its warm bed and snuggled in for more sleep.

He checked in on his patient again as he went to bed. It was still sleeping peacefully on his coat, by the radiator.

 

He had been asleep for around an hour when he was woken by footsteps in the corridor outside his bedroom.

He lay staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the little creature might want. Perhaps it needed him to let it out into the garden again.

He looked over as it reached his door, and the door was pushed open and he heard the footsteps approach his bed.

He was taken aback when there was a short flapping noise, and the creature appeared on the bed beside him.

To his surprise, it snuggled its body into his waist, then laid its head on his belly.

He froze for a moment, but he gradually let himself get used to the little creature snuggling against him, and even reached out a hand to rub its head gently.

He could have sworn he heard the little creature sigh in pleasure as he massaged its skin.

“I hope you don’t snore,” he mumbled, already almost asleep, enjoying the feeling of not being alone.

 

In the morning, he awoke with a start. He could feel a gentle pressure on his belly that he was not used to.

He looked down, blearily, to see the little creature still peacefully napping with him.

He lay back again, staring at the ceiling. In the cold light of morning, it just seemed so unbelievable. That he had been adopted by this odd little creature.

The fact that he had slept, and dreamed, and woken again to find the creature still there seemed the final proof that it was not a dream.

But how could it be real? How could a non-existent animal have turned up in his garden?

As he was wrestling with the existence of the little animal, it woke up. Suddenly, whether it could possibly exist seemed less important than tending to its needs.

He groped for the bedside lamp and turned it on, then gently sat up to look at the little creature’s wounded wing.

The little patient stood still and quiet as he checked out the stitches in its wing. Thankfully, there was no sign of infection, and its skin seemed to be knitting together quite nicely already.

He rubbed the little creature’s head gently. “You’ll soon be good as new,” he said kindly.

The creature stayed a few moments to enjoy its little massage, then it turned and hopped off the bed and walked off down the corridor.

Frederick hurried to get out of bed, pulled on a robe, and followed his little houseguest through the kitchen. 

He let the little creature out into the garden, then fixed some food for himself and for his little charge.

The creature ate, then snuggled itself into its bed by the radiator.

Frederick showered and got ready to go to work. Before he left, he checked in on the creature, giving it a little head-rub, and talking to it gently for a few moments. He felt slightly foolish as he explained how long he would be away.

Very unusually for him, he put in the minimum number of hours that he could at work, before taking his paperwork home with him to do.

When he let himself in to his house, to his surprise, the little creature came to the door to meet him. He was surprised just how touching he found it to be greeted that way. It was something he hadn’t experienced before, and he felt a warmth that he wasn’t used to when walking into his cold, empty house.

He crouched down to pet the little creature, and it butted its head into his hand a little, making him smile despite himself.

He opened the back door for it to go outside, and it hopped off the step and disappeared as usual.

It was a slightly warmer day, and Frederick sat down on the back step to wait for it to return, enjoying a little weak autumn sunshine on his face.

When the creature returned from the bushes, it hopped up onto the step beside him, and just leaned on him. He petted it gently for a few minutes, until the sun went in again, and he started to feel cold.

He stood up, and the two of them went back into the house. He fixed something to eat for both of them, and they both ate in the kitchen, before he made coffee and took it into the living room, along with his stacks of paperwork.

He settled in on the sofa, his coffee by his elbow, and his paperwork stacked up beside him. 

He was surprised when his little houseguest wandered in from the kitchen, hopped up onto the sofa, and settled beside him, snuggled against his thigh, with its head resting lightly on his lap.

He really hadn’t expected that. He had assumed that the snuggling in bed the night before had been because the radiator had switched off, and it wanted the warmth. But now the radiator was on, and here it still was, choosing to get its warmth from him rather than the much warmer heat source.

He was strangely moved by the fact that it just seemed to want to be with him.

He opened his first report, and started to read, his other hand idly petting the little animal beside him. As he massaged its head, he heard it make a low humming noise in its throat.

He was a little alarmed for a moment, but the creature seemed perfectly comfortable. He realised that it was a contented sound, presumably like the purring of a cat.

 

So Frederick Chilton had a pet. He had a little friend who seemed to adore him. He found it very rewarding to look after the little creature, and he started to spend much more time at home, now it was not so empty and antiseptic.

He nursed the little creature back to full health, removing the stitches after a few days. It was immensely satisfying to see the little animal take its first tentative flight, its wing now healed.

He had wondered if it would leave as soon as it could fly again, but it seemed more than content to stay with him, taking short flights around his garden, but always returning to the house, always wanting to snuggle with him, and sleep curled up beside him each night.

Then, one day, Hannibal Lecter arrived at Frederick’s house, with his plastic overalls and his chloroform.

As Lecter followed Frederick silently down the hallway, his chloroformed rag in his hand, the little dragon took a deep breath, then burned his fucking face off.


End file.
